Page 9 of Ruin (Hell’s Mayhem MC: Maine Chapter #2)

Chapter Eight

Kolton

I stare at Kenting who is cowering behind his desk. Words haven’t left my mouth yet. Sometimes, words are hard. Or maybe my body just got into the habit of shutting up and not talking, because when I did, it resulted in a backhand to the face from my father.

“I’m… not sure how this happened,” Kenting says carefully, his hands tightening around the arms of his chair.

Think before acting, Kolton. Think before acting.

“So what you’re saying is we need to pull eighteen grand out of our asses?” I ask calmly.

“Uh… well, yes.” He clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “I’ve already called everyone I can. I’ve been on the phone all morning. The state doesn’t care.”

No one cares about this fucking town, not even me, so why should I be surprised? I guess I’m not, if I’m being honest. And if this weren’t for the kids, I’d wipe my hands clean of it. Too much work, too much stress.

“There’s something else,” he adds quietly.

I raise a brow. “What more could there possibly be?”

The calmness of my tone is surprising to even me.

“I spoke with the construction company, to see if there was a way they could work with us, and of course, they said no.” He clears his throat again.

“And then they told me that if we have to change the date of the work, there are fees and if it goes into the next year, they will have to assess everything again and give us a new quote, and he assured me it would not be as cheap as it is now.”

Kenting stares at me, trying to be strong but failing.

I get up and Kenting flinches, hitting his knee on the desk but biting back the pain.

Fucking pussy.

“Guess I’ll have to figure out where we’re going to get eighteen thousand dollars in two months.”

I walk out of the school and hop on my bike to head to the clubhouse. Grizz is sitting on the couch, watching TV like a lazy piece of shit.

“We have a problem,” I say.

“What’s that?” he asks, his gaze still on the TV.

I have no idea what the fuck he’s watching. It looks like some reality TV bullshit. I snatch the remote from beside him and shut it off.

“Hey, I was watching that!” he shouts .

“It’ll be on when we’re done.”

“But I’m going to miss them seeing each other for the first time. Son of a bitch,” he mutters. “What the fuck do you want?”

“The paperwork for the rebuild got fucked up. We need eighteen grand.”

He whistles. “Damn.”

“That’s not a solution.”

He grins. “Nice to know you think so highly of me.”

“Fuck you, Grizz, you useless piece of shit.”

“What’s going on?” Prez asks, walking out from down the hall.

“We need eighteen grand,” I say, not wanting to repeat this bullshit all over again, but I should get used to it. I’ll have to do a lot of explaining if I want to figure this out.

“For what?” he asks.

I huff a sigh of annoyance, before saying, “Paperwork got fucked up. We’re short for the rebuild.”

“Well, that’s not our problem anymore.”

My eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

“We’re done with this, Snapper. We did our part, now we need to move on. We need to focus on other shit, like getting these runs down, cracking down on the border, and keeping those Iron pricks the fuck out of our territory.”

“It is my duty to handle this, and I will finish it.”

“No the fuck you will not. We have a schedule to adhere to. This was finished as of Saturday, when the charity event was over. ”

“Are you fucking with me?” I ask.

“Do I look like I’m fucking with you?”

I take a step toward him, ready to tear him limb from limb.

The only thing I like about this club is helping the kids in this town.

Maybe if they get all the shit they need, they can get the fuck out of this place and make something of themselves.

They’re never going to do that if they don’t have the resources, especially when they have shitty people like this asshole holding them back.

Grizz grabs my arm and steps between me and Prez. “Let’s go for a walk, yeah?” I blink a few times and his eyes come into focus. “Yes?” he says. It comes out like a question, but it sounds like more of a demand.

I shake him off and storm out the front door and down the path to the bar. Trudy isn’t here, so I lean over the counter and grab a bottle from behind. Whiskey. Perfect. I twist the cap off and whip it across the room as I bring the bottle to my lips and drink.

“You good?” Grizz asks from behind me.

I slam the bottle onto the bar. “No.”

“Clearly. What the fuck is going on?”

“I told you. We need—”

“Nah, this is more than that.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I glare at him. “No.”

“I’ve known you a long fucking time, Snapper. Few things rattle you. Money and the Prez? He didn’t fuck you up like this. ”

I grab the bottle and take another swig, the alcohol warming my insides. It never works quickly enough.

“We can’t be fighting him like this,” he says.

“Like hell we can’t,” I say. “He’s a fucking dick.”

“Keep it quiet when you say that shit, Snapper. We don’t need the wrong person hearing it.”

“Fuck him. Fuck them. Fuck you, too!” I shout. “You think I care what that means? What are they going to do? Kick me out? Good!”

“Whoa,” he says, coming closer. “Listen, you don’t have to tell me what you’re so pissed about, that’s fine, but let’s not do anything crazy, okay? You love the club.”

“No, I fucking don’t.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“No, Grizz. I fucking do not.”

He gives me a look like he’s only just hearing me for the first time. Like my words are only just settling in. How does anyone even think I care about this place?

“I never wanted anything to do with this fucking club, and the one thing I do like about it, this asshole is now going to control, too? What’s the fucking point?”

“You can do it on your own time.”

“Yeah, and with what resources? This is all I have.” I throw my arms up, letting them fall to my sides. “This is all I fucking have,” I growl. Hating that it’s the truth.

He nods, taking the stool beside me. “Yeah, I know, man. It’s all a lot of us have. Times like this, it’s not a good feeling, but when the club is good, then it’s enough, you know? We’re a family.”

“Fuck family. Doesn’t mean shit.”

Grizz takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He doesn’t say anything else, just sits with me while I drink enough that I can’t sit up straight.

Don’t know how I got home, into bed, or how long I’ve been here.

Don’t remember it getting dark outside, but it’s dark now, nearing ten, according to the clock.

My head is fucking killing me, so I climb out of bed and pop some pain pills.

I know I didn’t clean shit when I came inside, so I run through my normal routine. Strip my clothes. Shower. Clean.

I have to change the sheets on my bed, since I laid on it with my clothes from outside. I never fucking do that, so I know I was fucked when I got here.

Once I finish, I dig through my cabinets for something to eat and make myself a quick chicken alfredo. I hate pre-cooked food, so all of my meals I make from scratch.

As I sit and eat, I think over the day and all the bullshit that happened.

It’s not the best time to make a decision on what to do and how I’m going to handle things, but the answer is poking at my brain.

It’s a bad idea, but… if I can get something out of this, I should. I can make my pain worth something.

I finish eating and wash my dishes, then I pick up my phone and stare at the number that has had too much incoming activity.

This is a mistake. I’m going to regret it.

It’s going to bite me in the ass. But the school, the kids, they need that new library.

I started this and I have to finish it. If Prez isn’t going to let me use the resources there, then I guess I will have to use the only one I have in my personal life.

I press the number and bring it to my ear. He answers on the third ring.

“Kolton.”

My eyes fall closed and my jaw clenches. I try to speak, but nothing comes out. Just hearing the way he says my name sends me back, my body reacting.

He knows me well enough to not say anything. He knows me well enough to give me time to find my words. It was never hard to communicate with Lucian because he knew that’s all I needed. I just needed some time to process before I could get the words out of my mouth.

Seconds pass, minutes too, before I finally say something.

“Are you still in town?”

“I am,” he says smoothly.

Always in control.

“Meet me.”

“Where? ”

“You know where.” I end the call, shove the phone into my pocket, and grab the keys to my truck before heading out the door. If I don’t go right now, I won’t go at all. And I have to do this.